


We Are Men of God

by MrSpears



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: AU, Drug Use, Heroin, M/M, Male Prostitution, Male Slash, Rape/Non-con Elements, Teen Pregnancy, Trans Male Character, Undertaker as Bravat's father, Undertaker is not a nice man
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:15:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23488933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrSpears/pseuds/MrSpears
Summary: Ronald Knox has to get his drugs from somewhere. Who better than the infamous kingpin known only as "The Undertaker"? Drugs haven't ruined his life yet - but the deeper he gets into his addiction, the more he discovers of Undertaker's dark, twisted world. Soon he finds himself in debt, in captivity, and in love. Here in the dark belly of the underground, there are far worse addictions than heroin.
Relationships: Alan Humphries/Eric Slingby, Joker/Ronald Knox, Ronald Knox/Undertaker, Ronald Knox/William T. Spears
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	We Are Men of God

Ronald rubbed his sweating palms over the knees of his torn jeans and tried to keep his eyes fixed straight ahead. There was something wrong about being in his drug dealer’s house – normally they met wherever Ronald could walk, and their interactions were so brief that Ronald never got a good look at the man’s face. Today Eric had brought him over. Eric, of all people, who Ronald did not even know had connections to The Undertaker – much less that he knew where the man _lived_.

“I don’t see why you are so surprised.” Eric was trying to make conversation and Ronald was too nervous to even digest what he was saying. “I have to get my weed from somewhere.” 

Ronald pushed both thumbs against the bridge of his nose. “We are not the same, Eric.” 

“No, because Alan knows about _my_ habit.” He sat down next to Ronald. The weak couch springs sank even further. Ronald felt himself tumbling backward into a hole. “Have you worked up the courage to tell William, or are you waiting for the next time you pull on a gun on him?” 

Not his proudest moment. He wished Eric would stop bringing it up. Ronald dug his hands into the cushion beneath him and pulled himself up closer to the edge so he wasn’t sitting inside the couch. “Haven’t drugs made you do anything to Alan that you regret?” 

“Sure. I was really high once and we got into an argument about whether or not narwhals are real. It was like, two hours long and he ended up proving me wrong. So I dumped a Coke in his lap. He forgave me, though, and we had makeup sex. I don’t see Will giving you makeup sex after you tell him that you’re shooting up.” 

“Fuck.” Ronald took off his glasses and stared at the dirty lenses. He couldn’t tell if they were really _that_ dirty or if his vision was just awful. “I need to get out. I feel like I’m contracting hepatitis just sitting here.” 

“That skinny kid with the backpack said it would only be like, 20 minutes. Has it been twenty minutes?” 

“I don’t know. My phone is dead.” This was turning into a nightmare. William could be texting him right now and he would have no explanation as to why he wasn’t answering. 

Finally, Ronald heard a step creak behind his head. He shivered and gripped the edge of the cushion, which he was still holding onto. The next breath he drew felt like someone was stabbing him in the side and he couldn’t tell if he was just nervous or if he was legitimately having a stroke. 

Ronald did not turn around to face whoever was coming. He waited until his peripheral caught sight of a flashing belt buckle threaded through dark jeans. He swallowed hard past the knot in his throat and looked up, slipping his glasses back up his nose. The man was 6’5”, which officially made him too tall to legally wear heels. His long iron grey hair was pulled into a messy bun and his preternaturally green eyes laughed as he extended his hands, a baggie in each one. 

Ronald snatched his and stuffed it into his coat. Another painful breath convinced him that he was going to die on the living room floor. He dug into his pocket and pulled out the wad of cash he had stored there. It never came from the bank account – Will would notice that. He had a few _friends_ who liked to help him stay well in exchange for a few favors. Yet the fact that he turned tricks for dope was always less embarrassing than the pile of ones and fives he had to show for it. He was willing to bet that no one else on the planet showed up at this man’s door with ones and fives. 

“You have my apologies for being late.” When The Undertaker spoke his low voice crackled. One too many cigarettes, maybe. “My son told me you were here when I was in the middle of a conference call.” 

Son? Conference call? Ronald thought of the skinny purple-haired Prada knockoff that had walked through the living room. There was no way that had been a boy. And what sort of conference call could a dealer be having? Was he running numbers with other dealers in the area? Was he touching base with employees on the hot new club drug they were trying to push? He shook his head. It was better to just accept that for what it was and not ask any questions. Questions were how people ended up dead. At least – probably. The crime rate around there was pretty high. 

“Hey, no worries.” Eric shot him a charismatic smile and passed over a some folded over bills held together with a chip clip. “Thanks for letting us drop by. I know it was last minute.” 

The Undertaker looked at Ronald, that hard green gaze like an icepick to his heart. “You are welcome to stop here again.” His words felt private, like they were directed just towards Ronald. The blond ducked his head and rubbed his shoulder, a nervous habit. 

“Thanks,” Ronald muttered. “I should be getting home.” 

Eric stood, stretching his arms above his head. “Are we still getting food?” 

“What is the rush?” Undertaker pushed long white fingers through Ronald’s thick blond hair. Ronald felt a shiver shoot down the length of his spine and he felt like vomiting. “We would be happy to have you stay for dinner.” 

“My um, my boyfriend….” Ronald did not want to appear ungrateful, but William was already going to have his head on a stick. Besides, he did not want to know what this man ate. That just seemed wrong. “I have to, and ah, and Eric…” 

“Yeah,” Eric grabbed hold of Ronald’s arm and pulled him up off the couch. “Ronald has to get back to his boyfriend and I have to go to work.” 

Undertaker smiled. It was not a pleasant expression – his face just wasn’t made for it. “Of course. Well, I will see you both soon.” 

“Absolutely.” Eric pressed his hand against Ronald’s back and ushered him towards the door. Ronald stumbled on his way out, moving so quickly that the toes of his white sneakers hit the door before he had a chance to open it. 

“He scares the shit out of me.” Ronald hissed through his teeth as Eric opened the truck door for him and all but threw him into the passenger seat. 

“Yeah, me too.” Eric moved over to the driver’s side and stuck the key in the ignition. Only once they were settled did Ronald notice that his friend’s hands were shaking. “Fuck,” Eric said under his breath. “He didn’t even do anything and I still couldn’t get out of there fast enough.” 

“Who are you telling?” Ronald looked out the window and watched them drive by the innocent-looking ranch style house. “He didn’t touch _you_.”


End file.
